The Warrior – VII
“But your friend in me shall not die
Even though with him the knots I may tie
Just pest me not by seeking in me the love of thy
For I shall not be yours no matter how much you try.”
“Respect of self you have not
The time spent with you I have long forgot
Call me a betrayer if you so desire
But I have long set our love on pyre.”
Her words echoed in the warrior’s head
Down on the floor he laid – a soldier dead
He wished he could cry, yell and shout
His pain and grief spill out.
His armour was not so bold
That the sharp blows of her words would hold
Pierced they right through the warrior’s heart
And he lay dying of princess’ love dearth
He had lost the war he thought
For preserving his love that he fought
But he was a warrior in every breath
Nothing must stop him but death
Comments
Post a Comment